I slept and dreamt of you
and of the handful of words you gave me.
They are strung across the hallways of my dreams
twinkling at me above the sand dunes of years.
It's piling up at my feet and blowing in my eyes
but I still remember how it felt to hold your hand.
If I leaned toward you, would you let me rest?
Not grasping, just gazing at what we were before the storm.
Don't flit, those small moments are all that remain.
The tide is out, but the wind is rising.
And I don't know when I'll see you again.
